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I f Gunn’s friends could see him now, they would be hitting him with jabs and insulting him incessantly. He didn’t ken what overcame him. It just felt natural that he kiss the lass goodbye. It wasn’t aught he’d thought about doing beforehand.

It felt like a habit. And while he had to admit to himself, that was one habit he would gladly divulge in.

Groaning at what he’d just done, he scrubbed his face with his hands. On a positive note, she wasn’t revolted at his actions. She seemed shocked but not disgusted.

That was a good sign, surely.

Thankfully, his friends hadn’t arrived yet and weren’t due to be here for several days. There was no one here to bear witness to what he’d done.

Save Lizzie.

Gunn groaned again. Hell, Lizzie would tell Gwen, Clarissa, and Willamina what he’d done within minutes of seeing them.

Mayhap he should feel shame for what he’d done. Or guilt. But he felt far from it. As a matter of fact, he wanted to march right back in there, sweep her up in his arms and kiss her properly. He wanted to see her lips swollen from his kisses.

Should he? The thought was tempting. If Lizzie weren’t there, mayhap he would have. Though why he was allowing her presence to stop him he had no idea. From the looks of things, she would be well in favor of it.

He sighed, pushing his hands through his hair. Everything he’d done since Jocelyn arrived was against the norms of society. They were constantly alone. No chaperone in sight. Aye, Jocelyn kept saying she didn’t need one, but to others watching them, they didn’t ken that.

He tried to walk away, but an invisible force kept drawing him back. It was as if he was tethered to Jocelyn, and he couldn’t be more than a certain distance away from her.

He was going mad. That was the only conclusion to be drawn from this situation. Was it so bad that he only wanted to make the lass smile? To see her eyes crinkle with happiness.

Happiness that he was the source of.

*

Jocelyn could barely contain her excitement as she and Lizzie made their way to the modiste. She had no right to be this happy. She’d been floating in the clouds since Gunn had kissed her.

She fought a giggle. She couldn’t really call it a kiss. It was a quick peck and one-sided. And then Gunn disappeared before she could even react.

“What has ye smiling as if things canna get any better?” Lizzie asked as she looped their arms together.

“It’s nothing. I’m just happy to be going to the modiste.”

“’Tis fun, isna it?”

Jocelyn shrugged. “I believe it will be. I haven’t been to one in quite some time.”

Lizzie frowned, but the look was fleeting, and she quickly replaced it with a smile. “Ye will love the modiste here. Madame Gossard is wonderful. Not quite as good as the one I use at home, but nearly. Ye will love her.”

“I feel guilty though.”

“Whye’er for?”

“It’s a big expense.”

“Pfft. Gunn contacted Madame Gossard already and let her ken there shall be no limit.” Lizzie clapped her hands. “We are going to get ye a whole new wardrobe.”

Jocelyn smiled, but guilt consumed her. She’d seen the status of Gunn’s finances and knew that he couldn’t afford to extend her such a luxury.

Not only that, all the money that would be spent would be a waste in the coming weeks when the babe started to grow.

Mayhap she could request the modiste add some extra yards so she could wear them throughout her pregnancy.

“We’re here,” Lizzie said excitedly, practically pulling Jocelyn through the door.

A woman that looked to be about Jocelyn’s age greeted them happily. She had rosy cheeks and kind eyes. Jocelyn liked her right away.

“Ladies, come in, come in.” She waved her arms to hurry them inside. “Lady Kennedy, ’tis lovely to see ye again.” She dropped into a curtsy. “And ye must be Lady Townsend. I’m happy to make your acquaintance.”

“Please, just call me Jocelyn. I am not a lady.”

“No’ yet. She will be before we ken it, though,” Lizzie said conspiratorially.

Madame Gossard’s eyebrows shot up.

Jocelyn shook her head viciously. “She is jesting. I am not.”

“’Tis no’ my place to tell. Your secret is safe with me,” she said with a wink.

“Why would you say such a thing?” she snapped at Lizzie when Madame Gossard left to gather some bolts of fabric for them to look at. “You have no idea of what you speak.”

Hurt darkened Lizzie’s eyes. “I am verra sorry. ’Twas just a jest. I meant no harm by it.”

“It wasn’t funny.”

“I can see that ye didna think so. Forgive me?” She clasped Jocelyn’s hands, swinging them to and fro, her lower lip stuck out in a pout.

She was impossible to stay mad at. No harm was done with her words. They were the only ones in the shop, so no one could overhear.

“Look,” Jocelyn nodded in the direction of the counter. “Macarons. I bet they are from Liam, the baker. Let’s have one while we wait.”

There were several flavors on the platter. Jocelyn picked a pistachio one and as she expected, it was delicious as ever. Lizzie went for a vanilla macaron and smiled when she took a bite.

“Definitely one of Liam’s.” She licked her lips and dropped into a nearby chair. “Ye might as well sit. We’ll have lots of fabrics to go through when Madame Gossard returns.”

But as soon as Jocelyn sat, her stomach lurched. She quickly stood, clutching her middle.

Springing into action, Lizzie jumped up. “Ye look like ye are going to be ill.”

“I need—” Unable to finish the sentence because she would lose the contents of her stomach right then and there, she rushed to the side door and ran outside. She just made it to a bush before vomiting.

“Are ye feeling unwell, Jocelyn?” Lizzie asked, her voice filled with concern. “Mayhap we should return to the inn and reschedule.”

Once she her stomach was empty, Jocelyn felt much better. Wiping her mouth with the handkerchief Lizzie offered, she flattened her palm on her belly. The babe was letting him or herself be known. And that worried her more than anything.

“No. I am fine now.”

“Ye didna look fine, but now your color appears to be coming back. Are ye sure? We can return at another time.”

Jocelyn shook her head. “I am fine, truly.”

Lizzie gave her the side-eye, but didn’t push any further. “Well, then, let’s go inside and see what fabrics and colors have been chosen for ye.” She spun back to look at Jocelyn. “But, if at any point ye feel ill, let me ken. Madame Gossard will be more than happy to change our appointment.”

Jocelyn gave Lizzie what she hoped looked like an encouraging smile. “There will not be any need for that. Thank you for your concern, though. It’s very kind of you.”

Back inside, they sat at a long table where Madame Gossard had laid out several bolts of fabric of varying textures and colors.

“Och, ye must use this gold fabric, Jocelyn. It suited ye so well the other night.”

“That is a lovely shade. I just got it in from France,” the modiste added. “Do ye ken what kind of styles ye are looking for?”

Jocelyn worried her lip. She hadn’t the faintest idea.

All her gowns followed the same style, and she was not on top of what the latest fashions were.

“I would love to have your input on that, Madame Gossard. As the dressmaker, you must have great insight into which styles would fit me best.” She hoped the way she asked didn’t let either the modiste or Lizzie know that she was uncertain.

“Well, now that ye ask, I do. I had pictures flood my mind as soon as ye walked in the door. If ye trust me, I’d love to surprise ye.”

She slid her gaze to Lizzie, quietly seeking her thoughts. The woman nodded her head enthusiastically.

“I would like that very much, Madame.”

Madame Gossard clapped her hands in excitement. “Wonderful!” She gestured for her to come near. “Let’s get ye measured, and then we can choose colors. And ye can let me ken what items ye need.”

Oh, that was something she hadn’t thought about. What items did she need? Considering her wardrobe consisted of two gowns, and some undergarments, she supposed she would need a lot. But the cost would be high. She didn’t want Gunn to think she was taking advantage of his generosity.

“She needs a whole wardrobe, Madame.”

Jocelyn gasped. “Lizzie!” Embarrassed, she felt her cheeks flush.

Lizzie shrugged. “’Tis naught to be embarrassed about. Gunn told me right before we left that he wanted me to ensure that ye didna hold back and ordered a full wardrobe.”

“How verra kind of him,” Madame chimed in. “He must care for ye aplenty.”

“Well, I do not know about that, but he has been very kind since my arrival.” She stepped onto the raised dais, and madame approached, measuring tape in her hand.

As Lizzie lost herself in going through the fabrics on the table, Jocelyn took advantage of her distraction to speak quietly with madame.

“May I ask ye a private favor?” she whispered.

Madame paused, her hands mid-air as she was measuring her arm-length. “Of course. What can I help ye with?”

“Is it possible to, er,” oh, how could she ask this delicately? Deciding that there wasn’t a way other than to just come out and say it, she continued. “Would it be possible for you to make the gowns and items a size or two larger than needed?

Madame’s brows drew together as she contemplated her question. Jocelyn could practically see the wheels turning as she pondered, sure she was trying to put two and two together to figure out the reason why she would ask such a thing.

“I suppose I could if that is what ye want, but ye wouldna want a poor-fitting gown, would ye? It wouldn’t put forth the best appearance. For ye or the laird.”

She didn’t want to make people think that Gunn wasn’t treating her well by putting her in ill-fitting gowns. “Mayhap, whichever styles ye choose cannot be form-fitting around the middle, and will fall loosely?”

Madame gasped, her eyes rounding before she glanced at Lizzie and then quickly back to her, nodding her head. “I believe I ken what ye are saying. Have no fear, your secret is safe with me.”

Jocelyn nibbled at the nail bed of her thumb nervously. What had she done? She’d told a stranger that she was expecting. She wanted to cry.

Madame placed a light hand on her arm. “Truly. Ye wouldna believe the things I hear when people visit my shop.” She giggled. “I have gossip on nearly every person that I’ve made an item for. Believe me when I tell ye, your secret will never pass my lips.”

“Thank you,” Jocelyn whispered, relief flooding through her.

“I will do what I can to make ye fashionable items that ye can grow into. How’s that?”

Jocelyn nodded. “I appreciate that.”

“Now, let’s finish these measurements and get to the fun part. Choosing your colors.” She smiled warmly and went back to work.

Daring a look at Lizzie, Jocelyn was happy to see that she wasn’t paying any attention to them.

It wouldn’t be long before signs of the babe would be visible. She had to brace herself for the time when she would have to explain it to Gunn.

A conversation she wasn’t looking forward to.